Rock Bottom
by NuclearParadise
Summary: Russia can't handle the world anymore and decides that it would be better if he was forgotten, but someone who knows what it's like more than anyone else comes to help him reconsider. RusCan


Russia sat down on the dock over looking a lake covered in thinning sheets of ice, staring down at his gloves. His breath swirled all around him, going from wispy white to clear as it was cooled. He had his usual smile plastered to his face, though his eyes portrayed his sorrow. Another meeting had passed, another pointless gathering of the world's countries. Another reminder. Today was his birthday, though it brought more pain than joy. No one noticed his birthday until his older sister brought it up, even though he was happy she spoke up, it had definitely done more than give him recognition. It made him wonder after ever country congratulated him, fear clearly splayed out across their faces. When was the last time someone actually saw him rather than his cruel past? The past was the past, was it not? Even he hadn't enjoyed the blood and death of the golden horde, the assassination of the Bolsheviks, or even the pain he brought in his false-family during his Soviet era. Did they not know that his past tormented him daily? Their fearful looks and actions only brought it more into light! America would still occasionally call him 'Commie' if his boss forced him to do shady things. He couldn't even begin to understand the emotional wounds he inflicted when he did that. Everyone forced him to be cruel, they would push him over that thin line of his sanity.

Tears began to form in his eyes as he desperately fought them back and his smile began to twitch. Everyday... Everyday he felt it slip further and further. His past tore what humanity was left in him. He wanted to tear the other nations apart in return and watch as their flesh separated with his overwhelming strength. While he saw them bleed and cry, he felt like doing the same himself.

His fingers gripped in the position for clawing or ripping. The countries he effortlessly ripped apart were the embodiment of his very being. It tore his flesh, he felt the pain and agony of it all, but... in the same sense, it made him feel better. His torture would have to make others happy, right? They surely would smile then!

Russia forced his smile further, causing the muscles to twitch and spasm. He threw his hand to his chest, grasping his coat with the power of steel claws. China would be happy after he lost his capability to love. He wanted to see his smile more than any other, he owed him this more than anyone. Pushing his fingers through the fabric with unnatural strength he felt them brush over his bare chest. Images of China's joyous smile drew him further. Russia pushed harder, bruising and breaking the skin.

"Don't worry China, you wont have to fear me anymore, after this, I wont have any reason to set foot in your country ever again." He whispered hoarsely, pain lining his voice. Tears began to stream down his face as he broke through his ribs, feeling the rapid beat of his heart. It made him terribly sad, letting go of such a precious thing. He had a quick thought of stopping, but then the words China had told him wormed their way into his judgement.

_"Russia, I-I'm sorry, but I just don't like you in that way, you must understand. I would rather just being acquaintances, we can still talk if you like, just... just not in that way."_

The fear he held in those dark eyes, that's what caused him to shatter.

Russia let out a pained gasp, trying to pull his smile further as more tears spilled down his chin. That was why he no longer needed a heart. He wrapped his fingers around the organ, feeling it pulsate faster. Closing his eyes, he quickly forced it out, tearing arteries with it. Blood spattered his clothing and the water below, numb to his already morbid mind. He opened his eyes and gazed down at the organ.

It gave a few feeble beats, draining blood into the palms of his gloves. He closed his eyes again and turned his head, holding his hand out in front of himself. His heart was cold, just as he would imagine. Russia allowed his fingers to loosen, his heart slipping from his grasp. It fell from his hands, seemingly falling forever. A few seconds passed before an audible "sploosh" confirmed it's arrival in the icy waters below.

He remembered sitting in this exact spot many times before, trying to let go of his past. At the bottom of the lake lay hundreds of medals earned by him in his multiple services to his country. Every last one of them was evil, permanently stained red rather than golden yellow. Rewards for the many lives he had taken over the years. Countless men fell to his swords, guns, fists, and the occasional water pipe. He had been a man in every rank at least two times over. Ivan Braginsky was the name of both footman and general, lost forever to keep his secret safe. He had felt close to every man he fought beside, but as human lives were easily taken, they had all died centuries ago. They didn't know what they were actually fighting for, if only they had, maybe then they would have thought twice. Their shed blood was for a greedy sheep in wolf's clothing who had the guts to call himself a country. A waste of Russian lives.

Russia pulled his dangling legs up and stood. He kept his eyes closed, again, his smile threatening to pull into a frown. _"A waste of Russian lives..." _The statement rung in his head over and over, giving him terrible and bloody ideas.

"It is in vain. I wish to waste away as well, but where is my release? When may I be allowed death!?" He suddenly screamed to the sky. "When can I escape myself!?" Russia moved one boot onto the edge of the wood. "Must I drown countless times until I am too finally forgotten!?" He opened his eyes to gaze up at the grey cloudless sky, his vision blurred with icy tears. It was too much for him, bearing the weight of a whole country build on greed and the bodies of his people. He stepped the other boot on the edge, lifting his arms out straight. "Let me die!" One boot slipped and he felt his body teeter forward. A chuckle rumbled in his throat. "Да!" He laughed. "Да! Hell awaits!"

He felt himself fall, his hair tossing gently in the air surrounding him. Time came to a stop as the ground left his feet. In the midst of his morbid joy, he was surprised as he felt solid ground rather than unforgiving ice-cold water.

The back of his head smashed into the deck behind him, sending black spots scattering around his vision. His smile slowly slipped into an emotionless line and he stared up at the sky, another tear running down the side of his face and freezing. Numbness crawled into his mind and he just stared blankly, feeling his hopes of death shatter.

"W-what...? I... I-" He stumbled over his words. A wave of disappointment washed over him.

"Death isn't the answer." A small voice came from the space to his side. He didn't even bother moving his head, opening and closing his mouth as if to say something. A moment later, a face came into view. They looked similar to America, so similar that Russia would have mistaken them for him if it wasn't for the different curl poking out from under their hat. This being must be a country, though he wondered why he hadn't felt them on his land until now. He eyes their curled honey hair and gentle facial features. Inside he felt his empty chest wretch and twist, calling for his heart's return. The pain was dull compared to the agonizing realization that he wasn't lying at the bottom of a lake at the moment. Then his eyes met blue-violet, causing him to lurch forward in pain.

Russia gripped his chest, wincing painfully. It throbbed and twisted with the absence of his heart. He groaned in agony.

"J-just leave now, unless you'd rather your head in your hands." He choked out. His masking smile returned, though it was bent in a less unsettling way. Anyone with any bit of sense could tell that he was trying too hard.

The country frowned, sending another pang shooting through his chest. "Stop smiling, being someone who just attempted suicide, you're just making matters worse." They knelt down to lay a hand on him.

Russia cowered from his touch, furiously glaring at him. "Go back to your side of the world! I don't need an infant nation to kiss my wounds and pat me on the head!"

Their frown only worsened, causing him even more pain.

His smile instantly disappeared, replaced with an enraged scowl. "A-and stop _THAT_, what ever that is!" He leaned forward to throw his fist at the other man. To his dismay, it had missed pathetically and he fell back down, growling.

They sighed. "I'm not an 'infant nation,' and I'm not here to treat you like a child. I came because I see past your mask, you're in pain. An innocent smile and a little acting wont hide that." Russia almost moved away from his touch again, but stopped.

_"What's the point..." _The other country placed his hand over his chest, causing it to twist again. "Please, don't hurt yourself anymore." With the gentlest of gestures, he rubbed his knuckles over the bloody hole he had self inflicted.

Russia closed his eyes and swallowed the lump of pain in his throat. "You wouldn't understand, no one ever does."

The blonde gave him a saddened look. "Do you even know who I am?" He asked, already knowing the answer.

Russia squinted at him, frowning. "You... you're a relative of America's?"

"Canada, his younger and less acknowledged brother." He answered, looking hurt.

The older nation shook his head. "Well if your toils are as bad as mine, you're welcome to join me. Rock bottom has plenty of room, comrade." He waved one arm out, leaning it over the edge of the dock.

Canada sighed. "You know, there are people out there who don't see you as a wrathful tyrant, but as someone else entirely."

Russia glanced over to him, narrowing his eyes. "It doesn't matter what they see, what matters is that I am what they think. I kill people without even thinking twice." His words oozed with painful regret.

There was a moment of silence before something touched his face. Canada pressed his hand to his cheek carefully. "You're lying. I can see that it hurts you, you feel the weight of every death on your shoulders. The innocent men and women that have died over the years haunt your past." With his other hand he picked up Russia's extended one. "But you can't constantly torture yourself with the memories, you have to look towards the future." Russia gave a confused look as the younger nation hugged his hand close to his chest.

He opened his mouth to say something, but stopped. An odd feeling pressed against his palm. He realized suddenly that it was Canada's heartbeat. Instantly he understood, as if an invisible connection had formed between them.

"Y-you..." He tried desperately to speak, but his chest had begun to throb harder.

Canada gave a meek smile, his cheeks reddening. "I like you a lot Russia, that's why I don't think that you should have to go through so much pain anymore. It hurts me to see you during every meeting with a friendly smile and dead eyes... I-I just want to make you feel better."

Russia stared at him in shock, but somewhere inside he knew that he felt the same when he saw into his eyes. Canada was lonely too, he had to deal with hardships just as he had. He understood, he didn't cower, he actually came to _him_! Russia sat up and wrapped his arms around him, wanting to feel the other's warmth, to know he was actually there and not a hallucination brought on from passing out in the icy water below.

By god was he warm, Russia hadn't felt like this ever since he could remember. Canada returned the hug, his muscles relaxing.

"I-I love you." He whispered in his wispy voice, just barely loud enough for the other to hear.

Russia tensed up, quickly backing away from the hug. His eyes widened and he turned to stare down at the water beneath the dock. Canada looked a bit shocked.

"R-russia? What's wrong? Was... was it what I said?" His voice became quieter and quieter as he spoke.

The older nation turned to him, his face panicked. "No! It's not that! I just... I want to return that feeling, but I can't unless-" He reached his hand down, running his fingers over the surface of the water. "I dropped something very valuable into the water."

Canada tilted his head. "What is it? Do you need help?" He crawled over to kneel over the side beside him.

Russia glanced over to him, a nervous frown painted over his features. "Mph... I-I don't know if it's even possible now." He sounded like it was extremely important to him.

"What is it? I think I might be able to get it if I use my hockey stick." He offered.

Russia groaned. "I dropped my heart." He looked embarrassed.

Canada raised a questioning brow. "Are you alright? Organ's aren't supposed to simply fall out like that."

"Ugh, it's a long story. I just really need it, I want to... I take it back." He eyes the water, his eyes darkening in disappointment. "I need love..."

At the answer, Canada instantly understood. His cheeks darkened and he nodded. "Ah..." He glanced over his shoulder at the snowy forest behind them. "I'll be right back, I left my hiking gear not too far from here." Canada stood up and turned to run back where he came, leaving Russia alone by the water.

Russia nodded, still staring down at the black depths where his heart had sunk. He felt it, the cold surrounding it. Dropping it in wasn't one of his brightest ideas. He wanted to hug Canada again, he seemed warm enough to melt the frost that had settled over him.

A few agonizing minutes passed before he heard Canada's hastened footfalls and heavy breathing. He turned to him, watching as he came over and settled next to him. In his hands was a worn hockey stick with the name "Matthew" written in red on the side. Russia wondered if that was his human name. It was beautiful none-the-less.

"Alright, I think I may be able to fish it out with this." Canada gave a small smile before leaning over the side to dip the hockey stick into the water.

Russia watched as he stirred it around in search of his lost heart, the faint clank of metal coming from the bottom. He felt his anticipation grow with each passing moment. What if it had been eaten by a fish? What if it had frozen solid? Worst of all, what if it would never thaw? Then he suddenly felt a sudden stab, shaking him a bit. He glanced down at the area that hockey stick was dipped into. "I think you've got it!"

Canada smiled. "I told you I'd get it." He moved the stick around, rolling his heart over the rocky bottom.

Russia winced, holding his hand over his eyes. "I can't watch."

"S-sorry! It's a bit hard with this..." He flicked it to the right again. "But that doesn't mean I can't get it!"

Every minute felt like forever, but Russia was glad he was spending it beside Canada. If he died of hypothermia, at least he knew someone actually cared in the end.

"Aha!" Canada shouted as he lifted the hockey stick to the surface, a red mass of muscle sitting atop the side. "Got it!"

Russia sighed in relief. "Ahh... Spasibo Canada, I don't know how I'll ever repay you." He rubbed his forehead, a true smile on his face.

Canada carefully brought it back to himself, picking up the organ. "You can repay me by allowing me to put it back it." He looked up at Russia with a slight blush. "I-I mean if that's ok with you."

Russia couldn't tear his eyes from Canada's hand firmly wrapped around his still heart. He frowned, hoping that it wasn't frozen forever. "Sure, but please don't put it in wrong, you can't even imagine how painful that is."

The younger nation nodded his head. "I'll make sure of that." He set down the hockey stick off to the side and turned to him. He eyed it for a second, seeing as it had turned a dark purplish color. Glancing up he waited a moment. "Are you ready?"

Russia nodded and turned his head to the side. "да."

Canada leaned his hand over so that it was over the wound in the Russian's chest. He tilted the organ so that it was in about the correct position so he could carefully push it into Russia's chest cavity.

The older nation let out a hoarse grunt, but otherwise didn't flinch. The second his heart was in place, the arteries reattached and it began to pulsate again, lightening in color. Russia sighed in relief, the wound beginning to close up again. He took a huge gulp of air and held it for a moment.

Canada glanced up to his face with a meek smile. "Better?" He asked.

Russia's eyes flicked down at him, a warm smile spreading across his face. "да, much better." He leaned over and wrapped the small Canadian in another tight hug. "I love you too."

Another blush made it's way onto his face. "I-I'm glad."

**A/N Russia's lucky that Canada carries his hockey stick EVERYWHERE he goes. XD**

**Translations:**

**да = Yes**

**Spasibo (спасибо) = Thank you**


End file.
